


Bedford

by essequamvideri24



Category: The Shadow of the Tower, The White Princess (TV), The White Queen (TV), Winter King: Henry VII and the Dawn of Tudor England - Thomas Penn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:39:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5907157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essequamvideri24/pseuds/essequamvideri24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Bosworth Jasper Tudor returns with Henry VII to London where he is rewarded for his loyalty with a title and an advantageous match.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedford

The daily struggle, the scraping and bowing due at foreign courts, the damnation of exile, the uncertainty of a weak uprising, and the broil of battle had all come to fruition. The cares of yesterday and the fears for the future had melted away for one blessed instant that day when he saw Richard fall. Was it all worth it? The risk, the sacrifice, the struggle? There wasn’t a doubt in his mind. Yes. 

Sitting there at his desk before the bottle-bottom glass window, Jasper caught a glimpse of his reflection, amid the view of the outside world. His previously dark hair had faded to gray and his once handsome face now bore scars alongside wrinkles. His eyes, still sharp and green, were now ringed in dark circles. His mouth, which often curled into smiles in years past, he now wore in a thin line. A hard life had made for a hard man, he thought, scoffing at his reflection. There was no point in indulging vanity at the age of 56.

He looked down and ran his finger over the ragged edge of the sheaf of paper he had laid flat. An annulment of the attainder that had been set against him nearly a quarter of a century ago. His lands, castles, homes, and titles had all been restored to him by the boy he had raised into a man, by the man he had molded into a commander, the commander he had supported as a king.

He had everything he wanted. Well, he had everything he had thought he wanted. In his dreams he would return to England, and after his nephew’s triumph he would return to Wales to live out his days in Pembroke. But after the victory he could see that was not to be. Henry loved his uncle unconditionally and trusted him above any person alive. He could see now that he was destined to remain at court as the King’s right hand. At least, for the foreseeable future he would.

Besides, he had realized too late that even when his former life was restored to him it would mean nothing if there was no one to share it with. All these years he had been so focused on his old life that he had forgotten to build a new one before it was too late. And now so few remained in his home county whom he knew.

But if he was supposed to have everything he wanted, and he was to be the King’s most trusted advisor, why had he been summoned to the throne room for an audience?

“My Lady the King’s Mother, my lord.” A servant announced, bowing as a diminutive woman entered the apartments in a rich blue gown that swept the flagstone floors, her once wild brown curls hidden beneath a neat, if not opulent hood. He had been introduced to her as Margaret Beaufort over 25 years ago, since then she had had many names, many husbands, and many titles.

“Lady Margaret.” Jasper stood and sketched a hasty bow. His little sister-in-law out ranked him now more than ever. Her title, fashioned and adopted at her insistence, put her on-par with a dowager queen.

“My dear brother.” She addressed him warmly, a prideful happiness causing her still youthful visage to glow. “His grace is ready to receive you.”

Jasper offered the slight woman his arm and escorted her from the apartments and out into the corridors. She had always been small. When she had first come into his brother Edmund’s guardianship at the age of nine she had been positively tiny. By the time Edmund had married her at the age of twelve she was still smaller than most girls her age. Edmund had assured his brother that his wife would grow into a fine woman. But such was never the case. She had remained the size and build of a young girl, only her features showed her age. Her deep set eyes shadowed by sleepless nights, and the frown lines about her mouth, betrayed a life beset by hardship. Hardship which had been met time and again with warrior-like endurance. 

When they reached the throne room Lady Margaret was announced first, as “My Lady the King’s Mother, Lady Margaret, Countess of Richmond and Derby.” Flashing Jasper a smile she walked, shoulders back and head tall, into the large chamber.

Jasper was announced next. Upon entering the throne room he could see that the place was filled with nobles, and men recently raised to the nobility by virtue of their long suffering alongside his nephew in exile. It was a court of the king’s best and brightest that watched as the old man made his way humbly to bow before his king. King Henry was seated on his throne under the cloth of estate, a rolled up parchment clutched in one hand and sealed with his royal seal from which bloomed a stream of crimson ribbon.

“My dearest uncle.” Henry said, extending his hand so Jasper could come and kiss his ring. It was a motion which should have been unnatural to the young man, who had been raised in exile and with no hope of obtaining crown. And yet, Henry pulled it off effortlessly.

“You have ever been faithful to me,” Henry began “even in the darkest of hours. You raised me from a boy to a man and followed me across nations and seas. I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

Jasper bowed his head, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “Your gratitude is payment enough for a loyal subject such as myself.”

“You are too modest, my lord.” A close-lipped smile spread across his nephew’s face. “I would bestow upon you a gift, as a display of the depth of love I bear for you. I create you, Jasper Tudor, Earl of Pembroke,” He presented the sealed and ribbon bedecked scroll to his uncle, “The Duke of Bedford.”

Jasper bit his lip and accepted the rolled up sheaf of parchment. It was a high honor, one many would say he had earned.

“And every Duke needs his Duchess.” The smile had reached Henry’s eyes by now, they were glittering more polished silver than stormy grey. Although, the implication made Jasper’s heart sink. “You will wed Lady Catherine Woodville, the dowager Duchess of Buckingham.”

The decree took Jasper by complete surprise. It was a miracle he managed not to stutter or stammer when he thanked his sovereign. Well into his fifties, he was rather surprised that his young nephew should think of his uncle’s marital prospects at all; much less a marriage to what he was sure was a strikingly beautiful woman. He had never met Catherine Woodville, but he had heard rumors of her sister the dowager Queen Elizabeth Woodville’s unique beauty. Indeed, the woman had driven the former king to utter distraction at times.

Jasper made his bows and left the throne room, the paper creating his title clutched in his hand. He would have to speak to Henry about this. Later.

Back in his apartments Jasper was confronted with the delivery of even more letters. When he had gained back his land and homes he had gained back large responsibilities. When he had lived in Wales years ago they had been easy to deal with in person. But now that he was expected to remain at court it meant he had to take care of his duties through tedious letters. Jasper loathed writing, most of his contact with those back home while he had been in exile had consisted of short notes. His sister-in-law had complained more than once about the brevity of his letters, and had admonished him on occasion to be more dutiful and consistent with his communication. 

Sighing at the unruly stack, Jasper found some blank paper and his writing tools. He had let the letters pile up for too long, and his responses were long overdue. What was more, he knew that with his new title there would only be an increase in correspondence.

It wasn’t until a page boy came to light his candles and start a fire in the hearth that Jasper realized night had all but fallen and the sun was fading fast from the sky. Surely his nephew would be done with his audiences by now.

Stealing from his rooms he trod the familiar path to the king’s chambers close by. He was announced before he was permitted to enter. Within he found King Henry, who looked far less regal without his crown and robe. He looked more like the young man he had spent years alongside of in exile, lazing in a chair before the fire in his jacket and breeches, curls awry, and a drink in his hand. It appeared that Jasper was not the only one adjusting to an increase in responsibility.

“If you are here to complain that I have been too generous, I must first let you know it cannot be undone.” Henry gestured to the chair beside him as he poured his uncle a cup of whatever it was he was drinking.

“Oh, anything can be undone.” Jasper took the cup as he sat.

“I suppose I should have said, I shall not undo it.” He grinned. “Although you think it is of no consequence, I should like to see you happy.”

He mumbled an aside into his cup before taking a long draught. 

“What was that, now?” Henry asked somewhat facetiously. They both knew it would not and did not need to be repeated.

“I’m not fit for the company of women, your grace.” He said resolvedly as he set his cup down on the table between them, stretching out the toes of his boots to the fire.

The king snorted beside him, “You surely did not feel thusly while we were in Brittany.”

“The company of ladies, then, I suppose.” A few weeks ago he would have given Henry’s ear a sharp tug for such a smart comment, but those days were over.

“I know you will disagree with me, but I think it is very important that you have a companion. A family.”

“And it is important to you that we attached ourselves to the old ruling family.” Jasper cast a side-long look at his nephew. He knew Henry was not only clever, but too opportunistic to pass up a beneficial alliance.

“I did not say there were not political advantages to the marriage.”

Jasper stood, “If it will make you happy, I am glad to oblige.” He made a bow, “But I think it is time you turned you attention to your own marriage prospects. I hear the beautiful Lady Elizabeth is wasting away at your mother’s home across the river.”

“She will keep.” He assured his uncle, “Until the time is right.”

“Of course, your grace.” Jasper took a step back, “I bid you a good night.”

****

There was much work to be done with a new monarch and a new government in place. At the first Jasper had worried that Henry was rather too young and too green to be ruling, but he had swiftly been proven wrong. The young king had a sharp mind and a keen interest in politics and economics. He was careful and calculating, and only took risks he knew he could afford. Already he was showing the marks of an able ruler.

“The Lady Catherine has arrived at court just this morning.” The king said quietly to his uncle one afternoon as they sat at the massive oak table in the council chambers, while the other councilors quarreled amongst themselves about the appropriate taxation for raw wool being exported. 

“Is that right.” Jasper asked, glancing over his sheet covered in numbers and equations.

“I would recommend you meet with her once we are done here.”

Jasper looked up and shrugged, as if he could not be bothered. “I see no haste, your grace.”

“Ah but I do. You see, I have arranged for you to be married tomorrow.” As much as Henry seemed to be enjoying himself, Jasper felt nothing but dread drop like a fist in the pit of his stomach. “No great affair, I know how you loathe such things. But I do think the lady should like to meet you first.”

“You, nephew, have too much power.” He pursed his lips and returned his attention to the papers.

Henry sat back in his chair. “You shall thank me one day, I am sure of it.”

It was later that afternoon that the Jasper found himself hesitating before the doors to Lady Catherine’s apartments. He had dressed himself in a deep mauve velvet doublet and had made sure his hair was combed and his beard trimmed. He had done his best, but he knew there was nothing that would change his age or his appearance too much. Clearing his throat he rapped his knuckles on the door.

The door cracked open an inch or two and a maid took his name before she scurried away, leaving the door ajar on its hinges.

“A man for you, my lady.” He could hear the maid within.

“Bedford?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Here, help me with this ribbon.” Her voice was light and sweet, but a little tight, almost nervous, “Quickly.”

The maid returned to the door presently and opened it fully to allow Jasper to enter.

The room he was received into was bathed in the warm golden light of a late afternoon sun, burnishing the wood furniture and gleaming off of every reflective surface. Dust motes danced in the light that streamed in the tall windows. Sitting in a chair by the window with her embroidery was an elegant young lady.

As he stepped into the room she stood. “My Lord Bedford.” She curtseyed deeply and he moved quickly to take her hand and kiss her slender fingers. As she rose he caught sight of her dazzling blue eyes set above her cheekbones at a cat-like angle. Her high forehead only accentuated her youthful appearance and her rosebud lips curved into a smile.

“Lady Catherine.” He had expected her to be beautiful, of course, but not quite so young. He had expected his wife-to-be would be of an age with the dowager queen. It appeared that they were nowhere close to one another in age. The woman was probably in her mid-twenties, and surely must have felt some disappointment that her betrothed was so old and rough.

“Did you have a safe journey?” It was a natural question.

“Yes, quite safe.” She smiled delicately, her eyelashes fluttering and her eyes casting about the room. “That is, I did not have to fight any battles on my way to the capital.”

This brought a twist to his own lips. “Ah, but you must have left behind quite a comfortable home, and was that not difficult?”

“No.” She motioned to the chair across from where she had been sitting and they both sat. “I grew up here at Court with my sister the queen and the king. So, in a way, court feels like home to me. But it was hard to leave behind my children.”

“Your children?” He asked, before he could check himself. Of course she had children, she had been married to the Duke of Buckingham until he had been executed for treason by Richard III only two years ago.

“Yes. Edward is 7, Elizabeth and Henry are 6, twins you know, and little Anne is 2. It is a shame to leave them, but it is only for a time.” She looked up from her hands, which she had been studying as she spoke. 

She was so lovely, he hated the idea of a beauty like her being wasted on an old dog such as himself. “I have to say, my lady, I am rather sorry about this whole thing. The king only informed me of the betrothal yesterday.”

“Do not be sorry, my lord.” She twisted her fingers and her cheeks flushed suddenly. “Have I done something to displease you?”

“What? No. No, I am afraid it is I who must displease you.” He draw a hand over his weary face. “I do not know where my nephew gets his ideas from, but I am far too old and coarse a man to ever please a lovely young lady such as yourself.”

This seemed, oddly enough, to allay some of the young woman’s nerves. “I have married a young and handsome man once before, my lord. I should not make the same mistake twice.”

His interest was piqued, what was this strange turn of events? “And what lesson did you learn?”

“Young, handsome men cannot see past their own pride to appreciate their wives.” There was the slightest hint of a playful look about her face. “As other men might do.”

He was pleased to learn that she would not be a dull companion, with such witty comments to tease him. “But a young woman would not marry and old man under so slight a temptation…”

“Well,” She folded her hands in her lap, “The Duchess of Bedford sounds pleasant to my ears.”


End file.
